


you were carrying lightening

by mamalovesherbagels



Series: Chimney Whump Central [9]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: chimney is not having a good time following he and maddie taking a minute, he's not eating, he's pretty much having a nervous breakdown, just 2k words of chimney being sad, lots of issues and emotions ensue, might write a second part to this idk?, title is from the song swimmer by amanda shires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalovesherbagels/pseuds/mamalovesherbagels
Summary: He and Maddie are "taking a minute" following everything that happened with Doug. Really, he gets why all the attention is focused on her. It still doesn't mean he doesn't need some, too.
Relationships: Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Series: Chimney Whump Central [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726990
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Buck’s a bad liar. He would know if he was lying to him. Chimney’s happy for her, really just so glad and relieved that Maddie seems to be doing okay. Still, the most selfish corner of him is a bit hurt that she seems to be doing so much better than he is with everything since they’ve decided to “take a minute.”

Maddie had agreed that it was just a minute, they weren’t saying goodbye, but he could feel that a part of it was just appeasement, not wanting to break his heart even more than it absolutely had to. He could feel it in the desperation in the way she kissed him as she left, he could feel that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be back.

And it sucks, to put it mildly. Not that he doesn’t understand. He wants nothing but the best for her, even if it means them staying apart. Still, it hurts to feel like he’s being left behind, and not just by Maddie.

He gets it, really, all the support she’s getting. He knows she needs it, badly. She already had such grave, profound trauma before Doug stabbed him, kidnapped her, and she had to kill him in self-defense. Of course she’s suffering, of course she needs help, of course everyone is coming around to support her.

There’s a part of him that’s bitter, though, because it seems everyone is underestimating just how hurt he is from all of this, too. Not as badly as her, no, of course not. But he almost died, thought he was dying until Buck got there, and he was the one who unintentionally put him and Maddie in danger in the first place.

It’s a lot to have on his mind, on his conscience, but he can handle it, he’s sure.

(Pretty sure.)

.

They bump into each other as he’s leaving the police station and she’s entering it for questioning regarding the ridiculous notion that the 118 orchestrated a bank heist. Really, he has no idea how the money got on the fire truck, but their firefighters, not absolute idiots. And isn’t it the police’s job to figure out how the money got there, anyway?

He whispers a little “hi” in Maddie’s direction as he barrels out of the station. He needs to get out of there, needs to not feel her eyes staring at him because when she does it feels like he can’t breathe. He wasn’t ready to see her, not at all. She looks good, he thinks, from the half a second he actually was able to bear looking at her. She looks well. He knows he doesn’t.

His stomach twists and he finds himself bent over a shrub outside the police station, vomiting what little he had managed to choke down for breakfast that morning. He figures Maddie can probably see it through the window (she can, but can’t do anything about it because she’s being brought back for questioning) but his body isn’t really giving him much choice in the matter.

Maddie points it out to Buck, though, who goes rushing outside.

“Hey, Chim, what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding a bit freaked out as he puts a comforting hand on his back.

“It’s nothing, Buck, just go back inside. Not feeling so great today, is all,” is the best explanation he can come up with.

.

“Is he okay?” Maddie asks the first second she and Buck arrive back at her apartment. Well, her apartment technically, but after she was kidnapped and all, she doesn’t really see him moving out anytime soon. 

“Who?” Buck asks, but it’s just to make a point because he knows exactly who she’s talking about.

“You know who--”

“You know, you could ask him that yourself,” Buck shrugs casually, “just because you’re not dating--”

“We never were actually dating,” she’s quick to correct him, “we were going to, we were about to, and then everything… well, you know.”

“He’s probably just sick or something,” Buck sighs, and he can tell Maddie isn’t convinced and can’t blame her because he’s not entirely convinced of it himself, but she doesn’t say anything after that.

He sends Chimney a text asking if he’s feeling any better because just because his sister isn’t going to ask if he’s okay, it doesn’t mean that someone shouldn’t. No response.

Yeah, he’s not okay.

It’s an awkward situation for Buck to navigate, because Maddie’s his sister and she’ll always come first, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Chimney with all his heart. So he gives Hen a call; there’s no sister keeping her from interceding on Chimney’s behalf.

.

“What’s wrong? Just tell me.”

He knows Hen means well, but scoffs at her, because how is he even supposed to begin to answer that question, even if he wanted to? Which he doesn’t, but still. What isn’t wrong, Hen, is what the appropriate answer would probably be if he wanted to answer it.

“Nothing’s wrong,” is what he says instead.

Hen laughs. She ain’t stupid.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

He shakes his head no, but he knows she’s going to sleepover regardless. He tries to take the couch because he doesn’t want Hen to have to sleep there because she’s already taking the trouble to spend the night away from her wife and kid, but she just shrugs and says that his bed is big enough for two of them.

“You don’t sleep much these days, do you?”

His response is to pretend to be asleep. He knows Hen knows he’s faking.

.

The next morning there’s an argument about breakfast. More specifically, his lack of interest in having any.

“Chimney, you need to fucking eat something.”

“Not hungry. Feel sick,” he shrugs, and it’s not even technically a lie. He always feels a little sick these days.

.

Just when he thinks things can’t possibly get any worse, he becomes temporary captain when Bobby is suddenly under investigation.

Fuck.

He tries to refuse it, a fact he ends up sharing with exactly no one, but there’s a guilt trip and not so thinly veiled threat of retaliation, so he eventually accepts the position.

He knows he has problems with communicating his feelings, he knows this. So he knows it’s not fair that he’s a little angry, a little hurt with the team for not realizing that him being a hardass, those stupid fucking lineups- it’s all just over compensation for the anxiety, the aching pressure he feels he’s under.

He knows he could just tell them this instead of acting like a power crazed tyrant, but for once he feels he’s justified and not simply expressing what’s going on inside of him. He’s the captain, and how are they supposed to respect him if they know he’s a nervous wreck on the inside about all of this?

So instead he just lets them all hate him.

.

Bobby assures him that none of them actually hate him, but whatever, he’s just saying that to make him feel better. Chimney may be illiterate when it comes to his own feelings, but not when it comes to the feelings of those around him.

The former captain leans forward across the table, studying the current captain’s face more closely.

“Chim, buddy, you look like hell. You're still feeling sick from last week?”

God damn it, word travels too fast around here.

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head, getting up from the table to leave.

It’s not lost on Bobby how he sways a little with the sudden movement. He recovers and his vision straightens out quickly, but not quite quickly enough for him to bolt out of the apartment before Bobby can get a firm hand on his arm, having anticipated his next move.

“Why don’t you go lay down for a bit, maybe get some sleep? I’ll make you some soup.”

“Bobby, I--”

“I may not officially be your boss right now, but that’s still an order.”

.

Maddie shows up at his door later that night, and he can’t decide if he thinks Bobby tipped her off or not.

“We’re still friends,” she says, as if they’ve talked to each other at all over the last few weeks.

“Okay,” he nods.

“You look terrible,” she laughs nervously, her hand reaching up towards his cheek on instinct before she can think to pull it back halfway there, “are you… do you need help?”

“I think I just need some sleep,” he replies, and he knows she’s aware of the way he can’t even meet her eye when he says it.

Her lips are on his before he can even blink. He doesn’t think for a few moments, just kissing back, because his body wants it desperately.

“Maddie,” he gasps, pulling back when his brain catches up to him, “Maddie, I… what?”

“Let me help you sleep.”

“Maddie, Maddie, no, you don’t--”

“You’re not taking advantage,” she says bluntly, hands wrapping around his waist as she brings her lips back to his.

“Mmm, I just,” he breathes, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart, “Maddie, what--”

“We’re still friends,” she repeats, and he stops fighting her on it after that.

Still friends, he thinks as she slips out when she thinks he’s fallen asleep. He wonders if that hurt more than it helped.

He makes up his mind when he doesn’t answer the door the next time she comes knocking.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, though.

.

Hen pulls him aside at work, eventually, telling him he’s annoying her these days but she still loves him, he’s still her best friend, and she’s beyond worried about him. She says something about a “borderline eating disorder” and he smiles sadly and shakes his head, before just walking away, because it’s not like he’s trying to lose weight or anything.

.

Shannon dies and a part of Chimney wishes he went with her. He doesn’t actively want to hurt himself, he just wouldn’t mind if something did happen to him.

He has missed calls from Bobby, Hen, Buck, and Maddie; he doesn’t answer any of them. He knows it’s only a matter of time before one of them actually physically shows up at his door, so he leaves. He drives around aimlessly, having no real plan for where he’s going. 

He eventually ends up sitting on a park bench.

It’s the first time he’s been able to cry since the night Maddie left his apartment to take a minute from their relationship. Yeah, it’s been at least a few hours, at this point. 

A very nice woman comes to sit by him and asks if he’s alright. He responds that someone close to him just died and he appreciates her concern but would really like to be alone. She squeezes his shoulder and tells him that whoever it is, they’ll always be with him in a way before she leaves.

He hopes Eddie believes in that, because he’s not sure he does.

.

He comes back home around midnight to see that Hen had called Athena to bring a battering ram from the police station and bust down his door when he hadn’t answered all his knocking. The appropriate reaction would probably be feeling heartbroken and guilty that these two women who love him very much were concerned something had happened to him, likely at his own hand, but he can’t bring himself to feel that. He’s exhausted, in more ways than one, and all he can do is whisper out a halfhearted “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Hen stays over again that night.

There’s another argument about breakfast this morning. Same results, except this time Hen cries.

.

He passes out eventually, which he knows was inevitable from the start, because he knows he’s not eating enough and his job is very heavy on physical labor. Thankfully it’s at the end of the shift while they’re all at their lockers getting their stuff to go home and not out on a call.

“Chim, you okay?” Eddie asks worriedly, and Buck is already rushing forward with his arms wide open for him to fall into.

He wakes up hooked up to an IV on the firehouse couch, and Hen is crying again.

“I just… Chimney,” she begs desperately, “why won’t you eat, honey?”

“It’s not on purpose,” he answers, and it’s honest, “I just… can’t. I’m not… I’m not hungry anymore, Hen.”

Buck mentions that he’s called Bobby, and Chimney just wishes the ground would swallow him whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, well look who's back one day later adding to what was originally supposed to be a one shot! Is anyone surprised? I'm not!

Bobby shows up at the station so quickly that he must have been taking the traffic laws as a suggestion. Chimney can’t say he’s surprised.

He can say that he feels embarrassed and vulnerable and ashamed, however.

“Chim, buddy, we gotta talk about this,” he says steadily, kneeling down beside the couch while Hen paces back and forth behind him. Everyone else has been shooed away.

“Talk about what?” he shrugs, and yeah, he knows it’s weak. There’s no obscurity here, no wiggling his way out of it. His default response is still to try, though.

“You’re the captain. You can’t be passing out all over the place,” Hen half-shouts, and Chimney shrugs again, because it’s not like he even wanted to be captain in the first place.

“Then I can stop being captain.”

“Chimney, what is this about? You’re stressed? The stabbing? We can’t help you if you don’t start talking.”

“Then I guess you can’t help.”

“Bobby…” Hen trails off, looking at the former captain desperately, as if she’s begging him to find the magic words to fix her best friend.

“Chim,” Bobby pleads, “clearly something is not right here. You need help.”

He shrugs a third time, and then just goes quiet.

.

He ends up staying at Hen and Karen’s house, and not by choice. Whatever. It’s better than if Bobby had forcefully taken him in, because now that he’s not working he’d be home to spy on him all the time.

Karen is attempting to spoon feed him soup and if Denny wasn’t in the other room he would probably be screaming. No amount of food is going to fix anything, because him being well fed isn’t going to un-stab him and un-kidnap Maddie. So maybe it’s not good that he’s so depressed and anxious that he can’t eat. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter.

“Karen, stop it,” he groans, halfway through the bowl when his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably heavy. 

“I know you and Hen are on another level; she’s your best friend and I get that, but you’re my friend, too,” she says, and he can’t decide if he believes her, “I’m your friend, Chimney, and as your friend I’m telling you that you need to eat the fucking soup. Besides, I made it with love.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

She goes quiet for a moment before she shakes her head, picking the spoon back up and bringing it towards his mouth.

.

He knows it is completely reasonable for word of him passing out at work to get back to Maddie. He knows he can’t even be mad at Buck for it, that it wouldn’t be fair. It doesn’t mean he has to be happy when he hears a knock on Hen and Karen’s door at eleven-thirty pm that night. 

He groans. He’d know that knock anywhere.

He’d been dying to see her, just not like this.

“I guess they told you I live here now,” he mumbles with a fake half smile, and he knows it’s a pathetic attempt at a joke given the gravity of the situation.

“Let me in,” she commands, basically shoving herself through the doorway when he doesn’t immediately comply. She grabs his hand to lead him over to the couch, and he hates how his whole body lights up at the touch.

“Could this not have waited until morning?”

“Stop trying to be funny,” she says exasperatedly, and he feels sick again when he sees the tears in her eyes, “this is… just stop it. You can’t try to be funny right now.”

“What do you want from me?”

He’s not trying to be mean, not trying to scare her off, he’s genuine in asking it. He doesn’t know the rules here, doesn’t know the boundaries, and the last time he saw her she initiated sex with him because he couldn’t sleep at night. And it was pretty great, don’t get him wrong, but he’s physically feeling too weak, too lightheaded for that right now.

“I want answers.”

“Maddie, honest to God, I don’t think I even have any for you.”

“Chimney--”

“I don’t have the answers,” he repeats, and it doesn’t even feel like he’s lying, “and even if I did, we’re not dating, and I know last time you said we were still friends but that’s not true and you know it. We’re not… anything, right now. I’m not your responsibility.”

“You think that’s what this is about? I’m here out of guilt, out of responsibility? Not because I… you’re important to me, Howie.”

“And you’re important to me, too,” he nods, before he takes a deep breath, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

“Fine. You wanna hate me but--”

“I don’t hate--”

“You can hate me, but you need to talk to someone. Talk to Hen, talk to a therapist, talk to Buck, it doesn’t matter. But someone. Because you can’t keep doing this. You just can’t. We might be taking a minute but--”

“It’s not a minute, Maddie. You’re not coming back,” he says flatly, tears burning in his eyes as they avoid hers, “you don’t have to keep pretending. I get it, I do. But I can’t do this, okay? It hurts too much. I don’t want to be friends, so please, just go. I’m going to bed.”

“Chim--”

“Goodnight, Maddie,” he whispers, already scurrying off toward the guest bedroom that is now his new home, adding a quiet, “and goodbye.”

.

“Do I need to kill him?”

The mascara messily trailing down his sister’s face tells Buck a lot about how the conversation with her sort of ex-boyfriend went.

“I don’t know what to do!” she shouts, throwing her hands up in the air, “he doesn’t even want me as his friend anymore!”

“Halfway hurts,” Buck shrugs, and when he sees the glare from his sister he quickly adds, “look, I’m not saying you’re pulling an Abby, not at ALL. All I’m saying is that when Abby was still occasionally sending me texts, it kind of hurt more than when she just completely stopped. Was easier to be ignored. The message was more clear.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore him? While he’s clearly having some sort of crisis? When he’s passing out because he won’t eat? I’m just supposed to ignore all that?”

“I don’t know, Maddie,” he sighs, “I don’t think there are any clear cut answers here.”

He’s right, she knows he is, and she absolutely hates it.

.

Some nights, Hen crawls into bed with him. Sometimes he pretends to be asleep, even though he’s always awake. Sometimes he talks to her.

“You could be with your wife, you know.”

“She doesn’t need me the way you do right now.”

“Don’t mean to come in the way of your marriage.”

“Please stop making jokes about this,” Hen begs, and he winces at the echoes of Maddie in her words, “please stop making jokes about any of this.”

“Hen… I don’t understand most of this either,” he murmurs, biting his lip, and it must be the odd hour of the night making him feel more forthcoming, “I just… I think something broke when I was stabbed; I think something inside me broke.”

“You know,” she says slowly, and he can hear a telling thickness in her voice, “there’s a word for that, and it’s not broken. It’s called trauma.”

He goes quiet at that, because he feels pretty broken but doesn’t have it in him to argue.

“Sometimes I want to take you to the hospital,” Hen admits.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he replies easily, turning to face her head on the pillow next to his, “but I don’t blame you for wanting to.”

.

He’s the captain, so everyone has to act like everything is normal. He loves it, everyone else hates it. Oh well. He deserves one small silver lining to this whole temporary promotion that he doesn’t want.

It doesn’t mean he still can’t hear the hushed words, can’t feel the concerned glances in his direction when he’s turned the other way. He might be a mess, but he’s not stupid. At least not completely. Nothing is normal, to his personal issues to Shannon dying to Bobby not being there anymore. Just because they all have to pretend that it is to get the job doesn’t mean that it actually is. It’s all just one big group performance when they’re on the clock.

As soon as they’re at their lockers getting ready to go home, though, all the questions start. Hen and Buck asking how he’s feeling, Eddie asking if he’s sleeping okay, it’s all a routine at this point. He can tell what anyone is going to say before they even open their mouth. 

Except one night Buck surprises him.

“My sister asks about you everyday. I’m getting really tired of not knowing what to say to her.”

“Sounds like a personal problem, Buckaroo.”

“So, what? Because she doesn’t want to be together you’re going to hold this grudge against her forever?”

“It’s not a grudge, Buck,” he spits bitterly, offended that Buck thinks he could ever be so petty to Maddie, “I’m not being vindictive. I’m not mad at her. I could never be mad at her for knowing what’s best for her. Just… not being her friend is what’s best for me. Tell her I’m fine.”

“I’m not a liar, Chim.”

“Well, become one.”

Buck looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. Chimney walks away from him anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Hen is laying in the bed with him again, this time cuddling him. It’s normally around the time where they’d get up and have their daily breakfast argument, but they have the day off so Hen decides to procrastinate it for a bit this morning. She’s tired of fighting with her best friend. She knows she needs to, for his sake, but she needs a break from it. So they can lay in bed together for a while before she has to beg him to finish his plate again.

“Is it bad I hope that if there’s going to be another bombing that it happens today, when it isn’t our responsibility?”

“Nah,” Hen shakes her head, “me too, and I’m not even the captain.”

“Wish I wasn’t,” he grumbles, leaning into her a bit more, “wish they’d let Bobby come back already.”

“You know… there’s no guarantee he’s ever coming back,” Hen sighs, running a hand through his hair, “you might be stuck with this gig for a while.”

“If they end up officially firing him, I’m straight up quitting,” he says, and Hen is shocked by just how serious he’s being, not a trace of a joke to be found, “I can’t do this forever. I hate it, Hen. I suck at it.”

“You do not suck at it,” she protests, rubbing his back, “but I don’t think it’s very good for you right now. You have… being captain or not isn’t your biggest problem.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s probably the whole nervous breakdown thing,” he replies, and this time there clearly is some humor in his voice, but it strikes her as the closest he’s come to fully acknowledging the gravity of the situation.

.

“I can’t quit on him,” Maddie shakes her head, furiously pacing back and forth across her living room, “Buck, I… I know he doesn’t want me around but I can’t just… no, I’m not giving up on him. If he never wants to see me again after all of this is all better, then fine. But now? No, I’m not leaving him alone. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“Do you love him?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and Maddie stops pacing, just shifting uncomfortably in the silence.

“You know I can’t say those words,” she says finally, “you know I can’t.”

“But you do?”

More silence, more Maddie fidgeting with her fingers.

“If you love him,” Buck continues, “then you should want what’s best for him. What do you think that is?”

“...Me,” she sighs, “and professional help, that probably most of all, but… me. He needs _me_.”

.

Maddie is a Buckley, so really, Chimney shouldn’t be so surprised at her persistence.

“I don’t want--”

“I don’t care about what you want right now,” she interrupts, “I care about what you need. And Hen and Karen agree with me and said they won’t let you kick me out, so you might as well talk to me, because I’m not leaving.”

“What, are you going to start living here, too?”

“They said I could,” she says with a shrug, and she can see the surprise at her boldness in how he flinches, “you look like you’re going to pass out… again. Come sit.”

“Can we… can we at least go somewhere a little more private?” he asks with a defeated sigh, very aware that Hen and Karen are just over in the other room and will be actively listening in on every word if they don’t move away from them.

Maddie just nods, taking his hand and leading them out into the backyard, motioning for him to sit at the outdoor table before sitting down across from him.

“You look like you feel dizzy,” she observes sadly, just watching as the sunlight accentuates just how pale he is, and how dark and deep the circles under his eyes are.

“Yeah,” is all he says, feeling uncomfortable with how she’s staring and bringing his hands up to his face.

“No,” she shakes her head, reaching out to take his hands in hers, “no hiding.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m your friend, even if you don’t want to be mine. And watching you hurt like this, it… it hurts me deep, Howie. I can’t just sit back and keep my distance while you’re suffering. I just can’t.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers, biting his lip, “or anyone, for that matter. But that seems to be all I’m capable of doing lately; hurting people.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone except for yourself,” she clarifies, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“Didn’t even mean to do that in the beginning,” he shrugs, and it’s honest.

“Do you want to die?” Maddie asks, blinking back the tears that pool in her eyes at the mere thought of a world without him.

“No,” he replies, but she can tell he’s holding something back and crosses her arms, staring at him until he continues, “no, I don’t want to die, I just don’t… I wouldn’t mind if I did. I just don’t care, Maddie. Alive or dead, doesn’t make much difference to me at this point.”

“Because you’re living like you’re dead,” she whispers, squeezing his hands, “but we can get you help. We can get you feeling better, Chimney, you have to believe me.”

“I got stabbed.”

“You did.”

“And you got kidnapped by your ex-husband, because of--”

“Because of Doug,” she interjects, knowing exactly where he’s going with that.

“No, because of me.”

“That’s not true,” she says emphatically, no longer trying to keep the tears from falling, “I know you think it is, but it’s not.”

“I don’t… I think I’m broken, Maddie,” he admits, figuring there’s a good chance Hen had already told him that he thought that, anyway, “I think I’m broken. I got stabbed and now I can’t… I’m just not right. I’m just not the same. And I don’t think I ever will be.”

“You might never be the same, but you don’t have to be like this, to feel like this,” she insists, moving one of her hands to cup his chin, “don’t you see? This… how you’re living, it’s not fixing anything. It’s not helping. You’re miserable, it’s just… it radiates off you. You’re miserable. So let me help.”

“How?”

“Let me help find you a therapist,” she starts, “and let me be your friend.”

.

Maddie and Chimney are not the greatest at determining the appropriate boundaries of “friendship.” 

She ends up sort of accidentally moving into Hen and Karen’s, and Hen’s more than a little relieved there’s someone else to do the Chimney night watch so she can actually sleep in the same bed as her wife again.

They don’t sleep together again, mostly because Chimney is so weak and frail, but there are kisses, quick little pecks on the lips where Maddie cups his cheeks so tenderly in a way that invokes a feeling he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. She drives him to therapy, mostly because she doesn’t trust him yet to actually go unless she takes him.

There’s no magic fix, no instant return to normal, and Maddie knows it will likely take months and months for Chimney to find a new normal, a healthier one than the one he’s currently living, but she’s beyond relieved that he’s at least letting her be there for him.

A few weeks later, the first time she sees a smile reach his eyes since she asked him out on that God forsaken doomed date, she leans forward, pressing her lips to his, giving him a quick little nibble on his bottom lip before pulling back.

“...And that was for?” Chimney asks, smiling even wider.

“I want you to be happy,” she replies simply.

.

Despite tiny improvements here and there, Maddie is constantly worried about her sort of unofficial boyfriend who is not her boyfriend but probably is. So worried to the point that she just assumes her period is late because of stress, until she realizes it’s a month from the day she should have gotten it.

“I need you,” she says a few hours and a test later, sitting down on his lap.

“Uh, hi,” he chuckles, confused, “I need you, too.”

“I know you’re making an effort I just… Chim… I’m so scared. I’m so scared for you all the time. Can you… Bobby’s back as captain. Can you please, please consider…” she trails off, knowing she needs to say it but afraid of his reaction.

“I think I need to go inpatient for a few weeks somewhere, too,” he whispers, not meeting her eyes as he says it, “I still… I can hardly eat still, Maddie. I want to feel better. Thank you for helping me want to feel better.”

“Thank you,” she nods, tears of gratitude leaking from her eyes as she leans forward to kiss him, “thank you, Howie. I can make some phone calls. Thank you.”

The pregnancy test sits, forgotten and hidden buried down in her purse. She’ll tell him when he gets to come home again, she’ll tell him when he’s ready to hear it.


End file.
